In this confused world, love is the way.
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
I was raised, like many others, on the wrong side of the tracks.
Parents poor, thru generations, hopelessly, broke their backs.
The holes in our walls, patched, with mud and road kill skins.
Our roof made up from cardboard boxes and corrugated tins.
We ate old, ice cold, cockroach stew, tho pigged out on toad.
The rusty bucket, we used out back, lovingly called commode.
As a young lad, I went bad, ran with wild gangs in the streets.
But soon, found myself running, with drunks, liars, and cheats.
In time, untrusted, got busted, cuz I was the one who went in.
The Judge, graveled, quickly gaveled, got five years in the pen.
In one cage, pent up rage, every day had to fight for my life.
Dreading showers, rival powers, and a toothbrush for a knife.
Made up my mind, when I got out, to fly straight as an arrow.
Like a fool, was hard to get by, on just the straight and narrow.
My life's been no picnic, it's true, but I won't sing a sad song.
Now busted again, back in the pen, I'm sure I probably belong.
Time Is a River
time is a river that flows
no one can stop where it goes
straight as an arrow it rolls
no eddy, no vortex, no shoals
no place to stop and rest our souls
we are prisoners of its steady flow
Sweetie the bear followed the honey smells for a mile.
When he reached it, he gave everyone a growl and a smile.
When they saw his large teeth they backed away from the barrel.
He headed toward the honeycomb, straight as an arrow.
The bees were not happy, so they tried to sting.
But his fur and skin are so thick, it was not a thing.
He squatted down and stuck in his giant paw.
The rest of us were gone now, it is all I saw.
My son Jacob, he follows traditions
Religious, he has certain ambitions
He prays to God three times a day
I think he even knows what to say
Straight as an arrow, and square as a box
Jacob took a liking to bagels and lox
Sister snitched: Jacob prays right before he eats
~ that I don't slip a slice of pork in his daily treat
Leopard looks solidly relaxed
Reposing in the top of his tree
Using binoculars, I marvel at his beauty.
Or her beauty, there is a regal magnificence about her
I wonder if she senses she is being watched.
As she licks her paws I get a weird feeling that she does not.
But then she stops and stares straight as an arrow toward me.
I stop breathing.
we will all enter heaven
some of us limping
some of us straight as an arrow
we will all enter heaven
when our time comes
God is good and compassionate
a Father who loves us with all His might
we will all enter paradise
with our eyes wide open and our hearts pure
when the light of the angel casts a shadow of gold
over our brittle bones of old,
we will all shoot into heaven, straight as an arrow
limping or not.
Road noises rise like precautionary tales
Heat shimmering on the roadway ahead
Straight as an arrow from past to future
Seen through tunnels of unharvested grain
Punctuated by power-producing windmills
Turning slowly, nowhere signs of coming rain
Occasionally a railroad crossing suture
Strange dialect of north Fargo in my head
While lone tractor loads rolled hay bales
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Brian Strand's "Your Choice" Poetry Contet
Poetry Soup
written August 22, 2021
(using my reverse rhyming
technique)
A train runs Cape Town to Cairo.
It will be through here by and by.
The route is straight as an arrow,
It’s like riding clouds through the sky.
If I were straight as an arrow, or gay
as a songbird; then I'd consume the time,
exhaust “carpe diem,”—and thus seize the day!
For life's too short; and youth's brief paradigm,
like the spring season, is much more fleeting
than young love (a fact that's best left unknown).
So, you see that I'm not above cheating
fate: growing old and wise is overblown.
Just as wisdom is wasted on the old,
so is youth and love wasted on the young
(as they say): so, if being gray is like gold
in one's twilight years, then my cock's well-hung!
For what's there more to say? Life's just too hard
and short: so make much of its brief reward.
I hate
your brownness
your whiteness,
your blackness
your freeness
I don’t care about niceness
I’m more partial to meanness
I’m all the things bad
ugly and cruel
my venom pure evil
I’m partial to a fool
No one is safe
no not Christian or Jew
If you’re Buddhist or Muslim
I will hate you too
Richer or poorer
or shades in between
I will exploit your weakness
That’s always been my scene
Woman or man
Transsexual or gay
those straight as an arrow
they’ll all forget to pray
Fear and deception
are the tools of my trade
Sometimes the water looks calm
but it’s a trap I have laid
Love is the weapon
I most truly despise
Because it reveals who I am
and it opens your eyes
She lived in a giant sombrero.
West of the precious Rio Grande so narrow.
She certainly never did care-oh,
That others made fun of her lair-oh.
House built into an enormous sombrero,
Was laid out as straight as an arrow.
Outside was her sweet red Camaro.
She was my cute cousin, La’Dareo.
Saw Such A Small Sparrow
We should have seen such a small sparrow,
Whose eyes were always sharp and narrow;
Heart of gold,
Have been told,
And view of things seen straight as an arrow.
Jim Horn
There once was a smooth caballero
Whose back was as straight as an arrow
The women all swoon
By the light of the moon
And love his decorated sombrero
The Fisher.
A flash of iridescent turquoise
Captured by rays of awakening sun
As a new day born has begun
Among the thickets and leafy sprawling trees
Weeds and reeds
Kissed by morning dew
Wildflowers proliferate with a pleasing hue
Thereby a sparkling trickling
Silver ribboned stream
Reflecting fragmented images of evergreen
Within the stillness and quiet site
A small darting bird takes flight
Following the streams perpetual flow
As swift and as straight as an arrow
The feathered jewel takes a rest
On a overhanging branch
Displaying it’s striking orange breast
The little fisherman
Waits patiently
For a careless little fish to swim by
And kiss the sky
Down the fisher plunges
Within a blink of an eye
Skilfully it captures
It’s silver treat
Dangling from it’s pointed beak
And swallows in a gulp
A jewel to behold in natures treasure chest
A Juvenile
From a sandy bank cosy nest
A joy and pleasure to behold.
Peter Dome©2019.
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